Got Your Back
by The Ghostly Horse
Summary: "Look less terrified, more entertained." Despite having vastly different opinions on many things, G. Callen and Marty Deeks are strangely alike in their ways. "Both immersed themselves totally in the character they needed to become, locking away tight their real selves." A collection of stories that revolve mainly around the interactions of Deeks and Callen with each other.
1. A Terrible Idea (Pt 1)

**G'day! This is the first chapter of what will hopefully develop into a series of short(ish) stories revolving around G. Callen and Marty Deeks and their friendship/partnership/whatever. I am fully willing to take any prompts, and I will not abuse anyone for fixing up my grammar, just let me know and I'll get right onto it. Fair warning for future chapters; I am an abysmally slow poster, alright? But, I promise that I won't post half a story and then leave you hanging for two months before the rest of it.**

 **On that note, these stories don't take place chronologically, and any multi-chapter stories will have (Part 1), (Part 2), etc. thrown on the end of whatever badly thought-up title I decide on. I write the entire story before posting, so they'll be up within a few days of each other. As always, I love reviews, anything from a simple sentence, to a book on your thoughts. Hope you enjoy!**

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"This is a terrible idea." Deeks looked over his shoulder to meet Callen's guarded blue eyes. The detective couldn't help but grin at the almost-but-not-quite wild look in the older man's eyes as he took in the people. The gaudily dressed people. The gaudily dressed people who weren't actually wearing that much.

"G, this is a great idea. I need you to trust me on this, and not run away screaming," Deeks paused a moment for effect, "you'll only be chased by others, screaming just like you. Although, I'm pretty sure for different reasons." The terror that flashed across Callen's face was priceless.

Deeks sighed and slowed down his eel-like sliding through the excitable crowd, somehow always managing to escape the various flailing appendages that weren't necessarily your standard arms and legs, and allowed Callen to come up beside him. "Hey, I know you're terrified by all this _liberation_ , but we're here for a reason. Look less terrified, more entertained." Deeks slung an arm over Callen's shoulder, both as a gesture of comfort and to ensure he didn't scramble away.

"How could this possibly entertain anyone?" Callen pressed tight against Deeks in order to avoid two, no, three, very enthusiastic participants, alternating between some jerky dance and eating each other's faces. "This is the complete opposite of fun. This is mayhem, and chaos, and _somanypeople_."

"Whoa. G. We're working. Focus on that. This is for a case. We're gonna catch a budding terrorist cell. And we're gonna use these lovely people to get close to them." Deeks' eyes shone with repressed laughter, but his voice was pitched to reassure the recluse, who'd probably only ever encountered this many people while they were fully clothed. The fact that the NCIS agent could take down armed suspects almost twice his height, but couldn't cope with exuberant crowds amused Deeks to no end.

Callen felt a hand grab a buttock, and he swiped it away quickly, turning to face the offender, ready for a fight. A young man, no older than twenty-five, grinned at the older man, before winking and disappearing into the writhing crowd. Callen spun on his heel and forced his way to where Deeks was patiently waiting for him, a metre or so ahead, swaying slightly as people pressed in on either side of him.

It took far too much effort to reach the blond detective, and Callen had to fend off a particularly determined woman who was intent on touching as much as him as she could reach, with any part of her body. "I _hate_ Mardi Gras."

Deeks laughed, throwing back his head. "Could never tell from your reaction." He manoeuvred the two of them against the side of a float that contained several mostly naked men performing a routine the included feather boas and glitter. Finally, Callen drew breath, the solid presence of the side of the mobile stage allowing him a break from the endless press of people. And sweaty skin, and overwhelming body odour, and groping hands.

"You good?" The question startled Callen, and he looked searchingly at Deeks, looking for the quirk of lips, the flair of nostrils that meant the liaison was messing with him. Nothing. Deeks met Callen's eyes, and the agent was taken aback, not that he allowed it to show, by the depth of understanding he saw in the clear blue eyes. It had been a genuine question.

"Better. Definitely better." Usually he would've brushed the question off, not comfortable with expressing any sort of vulnerability to anyone, but it was a little useless when the detective had already seen his near inability to cope with so much sensual stimulation. Besides, he knew he was going to have to dive back into the insanity soon, and maybe, just maybe, it'd be better if Deeks could help. "I like to have something solid at my back."

Deeks hummed in agreement, absent-mindedly diverting a glitter-covered man from crashing into Callen, creating a barrier on the older man's unprotected side, taking the brunt of the crush of the crowd to allow his boss a semblance of personal space, even if they did occasionally rub against one another. "I know what you mean," Deeks gently disentangled himself from a young woman who'd wrapped her arms around his neck and was kissing his cheek, "took me years to get used to the total lack of inhibition people show at events like this."

Callen looked at the taller man in not-quite-concealed amazement. "You regularly subject yourself to these things?" Deeks' attention snapped back to Callen, and his gaze sharpened, aware that he'd lapsed, and been perhaps a little more open than he usually was.

"Well, yeah. I support the cause, and, well, it's a great place to pick up CIs." Deeks ran a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes. "Also, I was undercover one year and nearly did what you want to do, so…" Deeks paused, and then continued, a little self-consciously, "I figured I better get in some practise, so I'm ready for next time." The detective cleared his throat and subtly shouldered a persistent man away from both of their buttocks. "Deals are always going down at events like this, most of it harmless, but there's always that one group who wants to go hard-core."

Callen nodded in understanding, knowing this shouldn't surprise him about Deeks, but finding himself surprised anyway. The team knew that he was dedicated to his roles undercover, and the detective had demonstrated on several occasions just how committed he was to his job, and how true he remained to the police mantra 'protect and serve'. Callen knew the amount of dedication required to live an alias like Deeks did. Callen was the same. They both immersed themselves totally to the character they needed to become, locking away tight their real selves, hoping it wouldn't be marred by whoever they became.

"Sorry G, we gotta go back out. And this's gonna be more intense, the road narrows up ahead for an entire block." The apology was evident in Deeks voice, but it did nothing to make things easier for Callen. Although, he wondered when Deeks had started calling him 'G', and why. It was a question he kept in the forefront of his mind, helping distract him from the overwhelming sensations coming at him from all angles.

In under a minute, Callen was being assaulted from all sides. A gyrating couple pressed against his back, either trying to include him, which Callen was definitely not interested in, or to use him as support for their increasingly heated activities, which he was also not interested in. On his left, a young man was running his hands along the agent's arm, while a topless woman was walking backwards and shimmying in front of him. Not even his right was safe, and the crowd separated Callen from Deeks, even if only by one or two people.

While Callen was struggling, Deeks simply went with the crowd, not responding to the arse-grabs and random, but regular kisses that were just as likely to miss as land on his cheeks. He'd learnt long ago that it was easier to sway with the mass of bodies, and if he occasionally used his hips to nudge someone away, well, he was within his rights. Looking over, he watched Callen carefully, hoping that the seasoned agent would be able to cope with the onslaught, but ready to step in if need be.

"Deeks!" Not caring that his voice was almost an octave higher than usual, Callen tried to escape the press of people, all of who seemed intent on touching him, pressing against him. In less than five seconds, Deeks was by his side, almost launched into him, as the crowd showed their enthusiasm, but held himself away at the last second, knowing that the constant press wouldn't be helping.

"Steady G, steady," Deeks positioned himself so that he was slightly in front of Callen, shoulders angled toward the shorter man, creating a barrier on at least one side of him. "You're alright. Focus on my voice."

"Deeks…" His voice just above a whisper, Callen was past caring that he was essentially falling apart in front of the newest member of his team. "They're everywhere…"

"I know. Sensory overload, yeah? It's a lot, but you can do this." Deeks hesitated, but then decided that he couldn't make the situation worse. "I'm going to touch you, okay. Focus only on me. All your senses. All on me, okay?"

Callen nodded, looking intently at one of Deeks' shoulders, trying to block out the multitude of colours that were flashing all around him. He took a few moments to wonder just how Deeks knew it was sensory overload, and how to deal with it. The detective was always in the centre of the drama, spinning around the chaos as though he was born to it. Loud noises didn't put him on the defensive, and he didn't flinch at sudden movements. Not that Callen did either. He'd long schooled that reflex out of himself, but the instinct still remained.

Deeks wrapped an arm around Callen, attempting to cover as much of him as he could, presenting less for the manic mass to press against. Tucking him tightly into his side and fractionally in front of him, Deeks effectively covered Callen's back and right side, and the arm slung around his waist was useful in pushing away the most insistent ones. The possessive glare that Deeks threw at a few people also helped.

"Jeez, these lot are _persistent_." Deeks kept his voice pitched low, and bent so that Callen's ear was only a few inches away, cutting through the exuberant, and constant roar surrounding them. "I've half a mind to simply jump on a float and take my chances with pantless dancers." That earned him a chuckle, and Deeks was relieved that Callen wasn't so far gone he couldn't appreciate Deeks' endless humour.

"Just listen to my voice. Pick apart the drawl I've got, listen to the words, and find their meaning. Listen to the rumble, focus on the sound, and how it translates and makes sense to you. Be aware of the fantastic deodorant I'm wearing." Callen rolled his eyes, and Deeks grinned at him, "Take a detailed look at my lion's mane. Look at how there are so many different tones in the blanket colour we call blond. Appreciate how beautiful I am, and be jealous."

As Deeks rambled about his many good qualities, he kept his relaxed posture, knowing that it would convey to Callen, and all the while winding the two of them through the throng that adamantly refused to leave them alone. Keeping Callen pressed against him and glaring at those looking to cop a feel only did so much, and Deeks found himself having to put his own body on the line to keep the curious ones away from him team leader.

"You better be grateful for the sacrifices I'm making here. We also need to agree that I'm way better at this than you are. I expect a reward." Blurting out whatever came to mind, Deeks wanted to simply start shoving people out of the way, but the whole point of them being here was to blend in, to not bring attention to themselves. As it was, he slowly angled towards the outside of the parade that crawled though the street, where the press of people was less.

"Deeks. I'm alright." Callen wanted nothing more than to remain where he was, seemingly surrounded on all sides by the tall detective, but as his panic receded, his stubborn need to remain independent resurfaced. He wasn't in danger of being overwhelmed any more, and as much as he wanted to continue to listen to Deeks' constant babble, centring him, they were here for a reason. And he needed to be aware of his surroundings for that.

Deeks spotted an unoccupied bench, a wonder, considering it's placement, and steered Callen towards it, not replying to the agent's comment. He plopped down in the seat, the arm around Callen's waist ensuring that he followed suit. Only then did he turn to meet Callen's eyes and reply.

"I really don't think you are. There's a lot to process out there. Take a look G, are you really going to be able to find you way through that crowd and still be able to effectively keep an eye out for any of the members we're looking for?" Deeks really wanted to lighten the situation, but knew he had to present a solid argument, get Callen to think through what he was trying to force himself to do.

Callen took a deep breath, about to bluster his way through Deeks' admittedly rational point. And then he thought about how the younger man had automatically placed himself between the participants and him, how Deeks'd known how to contain his overload, subjecting his senses to one subject in opposition to many. Callen took another deep breath.

"I'm not all that alright, no. But Deeks, we've got to do this. We know the cell's here. We have five faces. We've got to find them and follow them or else a building goes down, and people die." Callen straightened, closing his eyes briefly before meeting the detective's concerned gaze with his own determined one. "I'm just going to have to deal."

The sigh that Deeks heaved was world weary, but there wasn't much else he could do. Callen was right. This was something that had to be done. "Okay. But first, give yourself a moment." Deeks tilted his head, examining Callen critically. "Who'd have thought you'd be so popular, especially amongst the young 'uns? Ah well, that's gotta be a boost of confidence, if nothing else."

"Thank you," Callen commented wryly, "and what makes you think my confidence needs a couple of youngsters to boost it? Not everyone's as insecure as you."

"Ouch. Shatter my self-image there G. I'll have you know I didn't go unnoticed myself. But it was quite amusing watching you flail around, trying to get away from all of these attractive people. Never pegged you for shy." Deeks grinned at Callen, arm shifting from around his waist to rest along the back of the bench as he saw the agent loosen up.

Callen snorted indelicately, but didn't answer. He examined Deeks out of the corner of his eye, while also scanning the crowd for suspects, more or less his usual, collected, unfazed self. The older man wasn't the least bit surprised that Deeks had received the attention he did. He was tall, tan, blond, and fit. The surfer-boy mess of hair and bright blue eyes, the mouth that always had a smile playing around his lips drew people in, and he immediately made people feel at home.

That was the reason why the team, especially Sam, had been so dubious of the LAPD detective in the beginning. He simply didn't exude the same quiet menace as the rest of the team, in fact, he occasionally came across as completely useless in their line of work. He spoke before thinking about what he was saying, and grinned at his own jokes, which, while often had Callen biting his cheek to keep from smiling, also came across at clueless.

"Got one. Twenty metres out, two o'clock. Not-quite bald guy who really needs a shave." Deeks drew Callen out of his musing, and the agent berated himself for not focussing on what was happening in front of him.

"Okay. Back into the madness," Callen steeled himself, and then added, hoping he kept all traces of reluctance out of his voice, "we should split up."

Deeks looked across at Callen, eyes narrowed, already shaking his head. "Bad idea and you know it G. One, you're not going to be able to tolerate people pressing against you, and if you start shoving through the crowd, you'll be noticed. Two…"

Callen cut the detective off, "Alright, you've convinced me. I concede." Mainly to stop Deeks from listing all of the reasons why he wasn't cut out for this particular job.

"Well, I've gotta say, you're much more reasonable than Kensi's ever been." Deeks moved off, rejoining the crowd effortlessly, Callen close behind him. The time away from the constant press of people had allowed Callen to prepare, and it was merely uncomfortable as opposed to debilitating this time.

 **xXx**

The duo kept a discreet distance from their target, which was quite a length closer than if they'd been tailing him on the street, courtesy of the writhing crowd. A minute later, another man joined the one they were following, and he too was a face they'd studied back at OPS. The newcomer spoke in the other's ear, and they began making their way to the other side of the street, eventually entering a building. Deeks reached the doorway first, with Callen shoving away a hanger-on before joining him.

"Well, door's locked. You wanna pick it?" Deeks grinned at the glare Callen shot him, knowing full well that the agent wasn't about to bend down in this environment. "No? Suit yourself."

It took Deeks a matter of seconds to pick the lock, and they both slid in quickly, closing the door behind them. They found themselves in a narrow hallway, with even narrower stairs leading to a second level. Callen drew in a deep breath and immediately felt sharper, more focussed, more aware. "Okay. We can assume that the bomb'll be placed on the lowest level, near the foundations, but you sweep upstairs in case they've spread out." Callen reached to fiddle with his ear, "And turn on your comms, OPS'll be able to hear us now that we're not out there."

"Gotcha." And with that, the blond detective made his way up the darkened stairs, stepping carefully and without sound.

"Mr Callen, lovely to have you join us. Your GPS tracking noted that you remained stationary for several minutes, is everything alright?" The slightly crackly voice of Hetty sounded in his ear, and Callen fought back a sigh. Of course she'd want an explanation, especially as Eric and Nell were blind, as the traffic and security cameras had been switched off a few hours earlier, probably by the terrorist cell.

"Everything's fine Hetty, We just took a breather." Callen hoped that the small woman would leave it at that, so he didn't have to admit his meltdown to the rest of the team, particularly Sam, who would swing between being outraged that he hadn't known, and endlessly amused.

"Have you located the bomb?" That was Kensi, thankfully single-minded in their task at hand.

"Not yet. But we're in a building that certainly looks as though it's the perfect candidate. It's pressed close to a bar, one that's undoubtedly packed, and far enough from the next apartment, that if they placed it properly, the bomb would create a domino effect that'll last the entire street." Callen spoke softly as he swept through what appeared to be two unoccupied bedrooms.

"Upstairs is clear Callen." Deeks' voice came over, and sent Callen to thinking about how the liaison had used that voice to talk the agent off the metaphorical ledge. Thinking back, the whole thing seemed oddly practised, but why would Deeks have reason to use such methods? Jerking himself out of that train of thought, Callen cleared the last room.

"I've got nothing either. Must be a basement somewhere. Come find me." Callen walked to the left side of the building, the side, that if it crumbled, would act as the first domino. Moments later, Deeks was at his side, and it was then Callen saw the not-quite-covered trapdoor that he's passed the first time. Not wanting to alert Sam that he'd missed something that now seemed obvious, he merely tapped Deeks on the arm and pointed, hoping the detective would understand.

He did. Without speaking, Deeks ghosted to the ring and, with a nod from Callen yanked it open as Callen crowded the entrance, covering it with his gun. A beared man started, and held up a gun. With a reaction that'd been drilled into him, Callen squeezed his own trigger twice before the man had time to aim. The bullets hit the man they'd been following in the heart and sent him toppling down the steep ladder. Cries of surprise let Callen and Deeks know that there were at least two more men down there, both of them likely armed.

"What's going on? Mr Callen, Mr Deeks, keep me up to speed!" Even as Hetty began speaking, Callen was descending the ladder, keeping to one side so that Deeks could cover him. A second man poked his head from around a crudely made corner, an automatic in hand, and whose spray missed Callen by inches. Before he had time to recover, a shot rang out and a hole appeared in the other man's head and he dropped bonelessly to the ground, gun skittering out of his hand.

"Thanks Deeks." Callen reached the bottom, and trained his gun at the corner, waiting for the taller man to join him.

"What is going on?!" Hetty's voice, usually calm, rose in pitch as she demanded information. Callen remembered that she couldn't see, and they didn't have backup for her to send in.

"We're fine. Two down, one, possibly more still alive. In pursuit." Callen felt a tap on his shoulder, and moved forward, knowing that there wouldn't be much time left before whoever was left set off the bomb. Callen and Deeks entered a room that seemed to fit the dimensions of the apartment above them, and in the far corner, there was a row of plastic explosive lined up along the left-side wall. Two men were crouched by what Callen assumed to be the detonator.

Knowing that it wouldn't make a difference, Deeks called out their customary greeting, "NCIS, put down you weapons, step away from the bomb." One of the men rose and covered the other, an automatic beginning to track a line in the cement to the left of Deeks and travelling closer. The detective ducked behind a stack of empty crates and descended to his knees, presenting a smaller target, unable to get a shot in as he was pinned by gunfire. Callen dropped to the floor and then rolled forward to a low-lying scattering of piping, safe from the bullets flying above his head, but unable to get a good angle from his position.

"Deeks!"

"Well, I've gotta say that I'd much rather be out in that crowd right about now. I don't have a shot, and he's chipping away at my cover pretty quick." Deeks' voice crackled as the shots rang out around the room and inside Callen's ear, and Callen chanced a glance back to where the detective was crouched and saw that he didn't have long at all before a bullet found its mark.

Callen took a breath before speaking, "Deeks, I need you to…"

"Draw his fire?" Deeks cut Callen off, "How on earth did I know what you were going to say? Just saying, when this' over, you owe me big time G. I expect grovelling, minimum."

Trust Deeks to not only read Callen's mind, but also to have a comeback for it. "On two." Callen gathered himself, ready to spring into an upright position, and hopefully take down the gunman before he riddled Deeks with holes. "One. Two!"

Deeks ducked out from behind the now almost non-existent crates and dove for the ground, stretching out as flat as he could, before tucking himself in at the last second, rolling and coming to one knee in a fluid motion. Callen surged upward, gun unerringly finding the heart of the gunman and firing three shots in quick succession. The rapid fire of the automatic ceased suddenly, and the silence was deafening, not that Deeks allowed it to stay that way for long.

"Step away from the bomb. Hands up. We will shoot you if we have to." No trace of the easy-going liaison was visible in either his demeanour or his voice. Deeks' gun did not waver from the back of the man, who, throughout the entire gunfight, had not turned or stopped his task, which involved fiddling with several wires that ran throughout the room, connected to the explosives.

Callen approached the man cautiously, stepping around to come at him from the side. He appeared to be unarmed, but appearances were often deceiving in their line of work. "Stop whatever you're doing now!" The man kept his head bent and didn't give any sign of hearing the two men.

Callen unhooked his cuffs from his belt and placed a firm hand on the terrorist's shoulder, yanking him backwards and upwards. A glint of silver caught his eye and he only just managed to deflect the knife as it made its way toward his chest.

"Status Mr Callen!" Hetty's near shout startled the agent, and he felt the knife score his forearm, drawing blood. Before the man could follow up his advantage, a shot rang out, and a bullet found its way into the bomber's shoulder, causing him to cry out and drop his weapon.

"Status is that you need to not shout. Nearly cost your best agent his life Hetty." The harsh rebuke was so unlike Deeks that no one spoke for several seconds, and it was the detective that broke the quiet, speaking in a low tone. "Three men dead. One in cuffs. I dunno how the bomb's rigged, but I don't think it's ready to blow. One agent with a knife wound and I'm really hoping no one else shows up because I really want to go home."

Callen watched warily as Deeks knelt to examine the setup of the explosives, looking for any flashing lights or other indicators that the bomb was armed. He was just as surprised as the rest of the team that the blond man had taken a bite at their operations leader. He kept a firm grip on the man who was sagging toward the ground. Deciding to leave the breach of conduct alone for the moment, he spoke to the agents back at OPS.

"Need an ambulance to our location. It won't be easy with the parade, but our guy's bleeding pretty heavily. And Deeks is right. We were given five faces. We encountered four guys, and one of them I haven't seen before. More might be out there." As Callen spoke, he dumped the cuffed man on the ground, and began tearing up the terrorist's shirt. Feeling a presence behind him, Callen turned to see Deeks crouch down, the small first aid kit that he always carried with him already out. While not mandatory, and none of the rest of the team carried one, Deeks refused to go anywhere without it.

"You watch for more guys, I'll take him." Callen noted that Deeks had pulled out his earpiece, so he merely nodded and moved away, watching the trapdoor entrance, mulling over recent events.

While it was true that Hetty'd distracted Callen, the wound was hardly life threatening. And even if Callen had been put at a serious disadvantage, he had every faith that Deeks would do exactly what he had just done. Have his back. But the way in which he'd reacted to Hetty was so very unlike the man that Callen worked alongside every day. The liaison had a great relationship with the small woman, often getting her to smile with his tomfoolery, even if she didn't let him see it, and more often than once, she'd cut him some slack that wouldn't have flown if it'd been Sam or Kensi.

Deciding he was out of earshot, Callen addressed Hetty. "Deeks' taken his earpiece out, and I think that's more so he doesn't say anything further than it is his not wanting to listen to you." Knowing he shouldn't be defending the taller man, Callen couldn't help but think Hetty was partially at fault.

"How badly are you injured Mr Callen?" Hetty ignored the previous statement, and Callen refrained from sighing. Deeks was in for a serious ear-chewing when they arrived back at OPS.

"Long, shallow. Didn't make it to the bone. Stings though." Callen knew better than to lie.

"See that you travel to the hospital with our injured terrorist and get it cleaned up." That was as much of an apology as Callen was ever going to get from the taciturn woman.

"G, Kensi and I are on our way. There's a back alley that we'll use, and a window that we'll shatter. Don't shoot us, alright? And don't let Deeks shoot us either." Callen felt himself bristle slightly at the tone of his partner's voice when mentioning Deeks, although he wasn't sure why.

"Copy. Kens, you stay on the ground floor. Sam, there's a trapdoor and a ladder. We're down there." Callen backed up a little, still keeping the ladder in sight, calling back to Deeks, "Sam and Kens are on their way. Sam'll come down, do whatever it is he does with bombs. I want you to go upstairs and wait with Kensi," Callen paused, and then decided that he had to risk hearing Hetty rip the detective a new one, "and put your comms back in, we need you in this."

"Gotcha." The voice was quiet, and sounded in Callen's ear.


	2. A Terrible Idea (Pt 2)

**Righto, second part of the story. Gotta say, this kinda ran away from me and I just followed, not exactly knowing where it was going. Hope it's enjoyable ;)**

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It was a few minutes later that the two men heard a window shatter, and Sam's voice came over the comms, "We're inside. Heading to you." Moments later, a pair of legs appeared at the top of the ladder, and then Sam was making his way past Callen, intent on confirming that the bomb was safe. The shorter agent finally relaxed and put away his gun, only just noticing the blood that was still slowly seeping out of the gash in his arm.

As if summoned by the thought, Deeks appeared at Callen's elbow and gently took his arm. "I'm gonna clear away the blood, put a pad on it and bind it. Not my best work, but it'll keep most of your blood on the inside. They'll patch you up better at the hospital." Deeks spoke tonelessly and quietly, not looking up from the wound as he drizzled saline over it and then dabbed away the dried and fresh blood. Callen remained still and quiet as Deeks covered the cut and then bound it, hands sure and steady. Just before the detective moved away, Callen caught his shoulder, and waited until Deeks looked up and met his eyes.

"Later," Callen mouthed, before squeezing Deeks' shoulder and letting go, stepping aside to allow the taller man to climb the ladder. Without anything better to do, Callen walked over to join Sam, who had finished his examination.

"Not armed. Not even completed. You did well G. I mean, apart from that scratch you got." Sam smiled at Callen and jostled his shoulder. Callen smiled back and then looked around at the bandaged man slumped on the ground.

"Help me drag this garbage to the ladder. The paramedics can't be too far away." Callen didn't feel like initiating the conversation that Sam no doubt wanted to have about Deeks' behaviour. He had a feeling that he wouldn't agree much with what his partner had to say. "Deeks, Kens, we're coming up."

It was only a minute or two later when an ambulance pulled up out the front of the building, preceded by a police escort, whose flashing lights weren't exactly effective in splitting the enthusiastic crowd that was still making its way down the street. An unmarked bomb squad van also pulled up, and four men entered the house to retrieve the harmless bomb. Callen assisted the paramedics in settling the terrorist into restraints, and then sat on the adjacent bench, not wanting to end up at the hospital but knowing he had no choice.

"The MEs will arrive to remove the bodies shortly." Hetty spoke to the team, "And I need someone to accompany Mr Callen to the hospital." Sam opened his mouth to volunteer, but Callen cut him off with a hand gesture.

"Deeks, with me. Kensi, Sam, the power twins can't be too far from getting the traffic cameras back up. Get back to OPS and start scanning the crowd. There's at least two more men we haven't caught. That's more than enough for another attack." Callen sat back as Deeks took a seat next to him, and nodded to the driver, "We're good to go."

The overwhelming noise of the crowd was abruptly dampened as the doors slammed shut, and Callen closed his eyes briefly, breathing in through his nose. "We're on our way Hetty." After letting her know they were moving, he wasted no time in unhooking the earpiece and flicking it off, gesturing for Deeks to do the same.

Knowing that he had to reprimand the detective didn't mean Callen was going to enjoy it, but it was all part and parcel of being team leader. "Never lose your temper in a combat situation. Especially at one of your own. Losing your temper means losing your focus, and your opponent will not hesitate to take advantage of that. What you did was out of line, and I'm fairly certain you're aware of that. I expect that it won't happen again." Callen heaved a huge sigh, "That being said, you had a point, it just wasn't expressed very well."

"Callen, what Hetty did could have killed you! She enjoys being in the loop of everything, and prides herself on knowing the outcome before it happens. And the one time she finds herself blind, she puts you at risk, all because she wants to know exactly what's happening, as it's happening!" Deeks practically exploded.

Callen interrupted before Deeks could go off on another tangent again, keeping his voice even and glancing at the paramedic sitting in the back with them, reminding the liaison that they had an audience, albeit a tight-lipped one. "I wouldn't have died. You would, and did, have my back."

Deeks paused, mouth half-open, and then slumped back, snapping his mouth shut. Callen pressed on. "The situation was not ideal, but then, which armed situation ever is? You had my back, and acted accordingly," Callen's lip twisted into a half-grin, "besides, you really think I'd have let him gut me? Please, give me some credit."

Deeks snorted before replying, "I s'pose not. After all, he wasn't an enthusiastic group of people trying to make friends." Not bothering to hide the smirk, Deeks was ready for the half-hearted punch to the arm that the agent threw his way.

"I don't think they were looking to make friends," Callen muttered, "more likely to pick my pocket."

"Hate to break it to you, but they weren't looking for money when they grabbed you G. They just wanted you." Deeks grinned at the older man, who opened his mouth to argue, and then snapped it shut again when he couldn't come up with a decent counter argument.

Luckily, the ambulance jolted to a stop, and the back doors opened, paramedics far too gentle with the injured terrorist. Callen waited patiently as Deeks jumped down, and slapped away the hand the detective offered him when it was his turn. "I'm not an invalid Deeks."

"Coulda fooled me." The cheeky grin was back, and Callen was slightly relieved that the taller man wasn't dwelling on the dressing down awaiting him when they arrived back at OPS. Well, at least wasn't showing that he was dwelling on it.

"C'mon. They'll have to patch our bad guy up in theatre. If you're good, I'll let you sit by me while the needlessly clean and then bandage my arm. And then we get to hang around waiting for our Mr Face-Number-Two…"

"Fadhil, G. His name's Fadhil."

"You wanna stand in the waiting room while I get to sit down and relax as professionals clean me up? Because you can do just that, you know." Callen was enjoying the harmless banter, and he knew it was doing him and Deeks good to focus on something other than the events of tonight. But he was still curious about the detective's depth of knowledge on how to while literally talk Callen out of a meltdown brought on by sensory overload. The agent hadn't even told Sam about it, his partner merely thought Callen was anti-social, and, at most, uncomfortable around excess amounts of people.

"Oh God, don't leave me in a waiting room. I'll start climbing the walls," Deeks looked around at all the white surrounding him. "you'd think they'd be a little more creative with their colour scheme, 'specially since there has to have been enough complaints about how _sterile_ everything looks." Deeks trailed after Callen, seemingly not bothered, or not noticing the strange looks he was receiving, from both staff and patients.

"Not everyone's as shallow as you Deeks," Callen glanced over his shoulder at the liaison and added, "you never struck me as the hospital-jumpy sort. Figured that was my gig."

"Yeah well, white gets on your nerves if you see it often enough." Deeks murmured, not really following the conversation, instead searching for the vending machine that you always found along the hallway in hospitals, stocked full of healthy-ass snacks. Not.

Callen watched Deeks from the corner of his eye, having slowed to allow the taller man to draw alongside him, not meeting his eyes, looking down the hallways they passed instead. The little slivers of information that he was gaining continued to surprise the older man, and how it was always when Deeks was not fully focussing on the conversation that he gained them.

Before Callen could sink too deeply into that train of thought, a nurse gestured to them, and ushered them into an empty room outfitted with several chairs, one central to the room and obviously meant for Callen, which he took reluctantly.

"Someone'll be in soon. We're a little busy, with Mardi Gras and all. Besides, it doesn't look messy, whoever bandaged it looks like they knew which end of the stick to hold." The auburn-haired nurse spoke directly to Callen, but spared a smile for Deeks, who was leaning on the doorframe, on her way out, which the detective returned as he moved into the room.

"Nice to see someone appreciates my handiwork." Deeks pulled a chair around and sat on it backward, while conveniently facing both Callen and having a good view of the door. The shorter man rolled his eyes, both at the comment and Deeks' probably unconscious seat placement.

"Oh yeah, world class quality," Callen decided that now was probably the best chance he'd get to ask Deeks the questions he wanted and get answers to. But first, "thanks, by the way. Y'know, for keeping me alive."

The detective looked quizzically at Callen, before scratching his head and asking, "Which time?" The tone was light-hearted and cocky, but it was obvious to Callen that Deeks was genuinely puzzled about the agent's statement.

"Well, lets see. You stopped a full-blown freak-out, which no one else has managed to do, by the way. You shot someone who had every intention of cutting me in two with bullets. You kept a knife wound strictly a gash to my arm, and you wrapped up said arm so I didn't pass out from blood loss or get it infected." Callen determinedly kept eye contact with Deeks, even though he felt uncomfortable admitting that his issue with over-enthusiastic crowds was not a one-time occurrence. "I know this is a largely thankless job Deeks, so I'm taking the time to thank you because not many do."

"Oh." That seemed to be the full capacity of Deeks' vocabulary at the moment, as he ran a hand self-consciously through his hair, half-hiding his face behind stray locks. "Oh, um, it's alright… You're, um, welcome?" Seeing Deeks lost for words was priceless, but Callen still had questions.

"And you have to know that I'm going to ask you about how you know about how to help someone with sensory overload. That's not something people just know how to deal with." Callen looked down, slightly ashamed that even with all his determination and practise, he was still victim to the complete loss of control that being subjected to too much stimulation brought on.

After a few moments of silence, Callen brought up his eyes, and saw that Deeks had gotten a faraway look in his. The older man cleared his throat quietly, and Deeks started, before grinning wryly at Callen. "There's a lot about me you don't yet know G. And sensory sensitivity's not that rare."

Callen shifted in the rudely uncomfortable seat, turning so he was facing Deeks head-on. "You picked up on it straight away. Even Sam, with all his experience with me, thinks that I just don't like people." He paused, but then pushed on, knowing that the liaison wouldn't tease him on this, "and I've gotten pretty good at hiding my reactions."

Deeks was already shaking his head. "Not even a veteran like you can shake off a meltdown by himself in the middle of that much stimulation. It's not something you can control." Deeks stopped, seemingly arguing with himself. "I don't claim to know exactly what it is you go through, only that I know it's not something that goes away just 'cause you keep pushing it to." Deeks tilted his head, frowning as he tried to place his words, trying to say exactly what he meant, "Occasionally, less so now than as a kid, I'd be inundated by too much sensory information. Too many people in too small a space didn't make me claustrophobic, but if those people were all talking at once, or smelt too strongly of too many different things, or continually rubbed against me…"

Deeks broke off as he saw Callen nod in understanding. "Well, I never broke down, but I'd be agitated for at least twenty minutes afterwards. Didn't happen too often though, and I was always about to get out of the situation fairly easily. I always found that if I consciously put my senses to work on one person, it often drowned out, or lessened, the overwhelming presence of everything else."

Callen watched Deeks closely throughout his explanation, completely flattened by this piece of information. The thought that this man, the man who always found the spotlight and strove to be the centre of attention actually sometimes couldn't cope with such situations was confusing to say in the least. And it did prove that what Deeks had just said, there was a lot that none of the team knew about the LAPD liaison.

"Oh," Callen felt like he needed to explain himself, which was a rare occurrence in itself, and a first with Deeks, "well, it wasn't a huge issue for me until about my fifth foster home. Five kids, two bedrooms, not allowed outside without adult supervision, it was awful. I…" The agent trailed off, not quite sure if he was ready to talk about his less than ideal childhood with the blond man.

"Hey, I get it. You don't have to explain G. You keep your mysterious persona, and I'll keep your secret, alright?" Deeks leaned back on the chair, stretching like a cat. "I'll never think less of you, and we'll work on avoiding crowded death traps in the future, yeah?"

Callen huffed out a laugh, glad that Deeks seemed to understand everything he hadn't been able to put into words, and glad too, that the recent events hadn't seemed to change the way Deeks viewed their skewed friends-but-not-yet-buddies-except-when-we're-wasted relationship. That was one of Deeks' most impressive skills, as a detective, but also as a person. He'd talk to anyone, and he'd make anyone like him. And he knew exactly how far he could push before someone snapped.

 **xXx**

"Mr Callen?" A young nurse stood in the doorway, a jumble of no-doubt sterilised objects held in his hands. He looked uncertainly between Callen and Deeks as if not sure he was welcome within the room. Deeks stood up fluidly and flashed his trademark white-toothed grin as he returned his seat to its original position and then extending his arms.

"Here, let me help you with that armload. The old decrepit practically passed out is Callen. Needs a terrible wound on his arm cleaned up. Or his arm cut off, whichever's easiest." Callen rolled his eyes at Deeks' probably instinctual response. Get up and help, and annoy and insult someone while doing it. Although, the nurse still looked terrified. Must be new.

"Umm, I wasn't told it was that bad…" The tentative statement trailed off, and Callen struggled to keep his face expressionless, knowing he should step in and act the agent-in-charge, but it was much more entertaining to watch Deeks bat him around a little.

"Oh, it's pretty serious alright. Drooled all over me in the ambulance, too," Deeks glanced sideways at Callen as the stricken expression morphed into confusion and stuck there. When Callen didn't indicate either way that he minded this harmless terrorising of the nurse, the detective shrugged, almost to himself, and walked over to set the equipment on a small bench, there for just such a purpose. "C'mon, nurse…?"

"Oh, uh, Elliott. Jason Elliott."

"Alright nurse Jason Elliott," Deeks turned up the wattage of his smile and waved the still-petrified nurse over to Callen, "I'll be your extra hands, lets go, clean this kid up." As Jason walked numbly across to the reclining agent, looking like he was regretting every single one of his life choices, Deeks dropped his act and threw his head back, laughing.

"Hold on Jason," Deeks paused and gulped in air before continuing, "there's nothing seriously wrong will G here. Well, that's a matter of opinion, he…" At a nudge from Callen's elbow into his hip silenced the taller man, but only momentarily, "…but I digress. He's got a shallow cut on his arm. Just needs to be cleaned up, easy stuff."

Jason simply looked blankly from one man to the other for a few moments, before the tension visibly left his posture, and he slumped forward. "I honestly thought I was in over my head here," Even though it was muttered to himself, Callen and Deeks heard Jason clearly, and both grinned.

"A good dose of fear is always healthy," Callen spoke to Jason for the first time, and was rewarded by a wary look, followed by a cautious nod.

"Wow. What a way to bring the mood down. Bet you're fun at parties. Oh wait, I _know_ you're not." Deeks turned away from Callen, but stayed within range for retaliation, which the agent was sorely tempted to make use of, except for the presence of Jason. Deeks broke his train of thought by addressing the young nurse, "Reckon you could fix up my partner here so we can get back to the fascinating duty of watching a man sleep off his injuries?"

Nurse Jason Elliott ducked his head and stepped around to Callen's arm and unwound the bandage, not flinching as he eventually reached a point where the blood had soaked through. Quickly, and efficiently, he cleaned away the dried blood, and drizzled antiseptic in and around the gash. So lost in this simple routine, something he'd probably done a hundred times, Jason even managed to click his tongue at Callen, before asking, "Are you going to listen to me if I tell you not to do anything that requires the muscles of your forearm for two weeks?"

One half of Callen's lips twitched up, "Probably not. Couldn't even really guarantee two days."

Jason sighed heavily, and Callen saw Deeks duck his head to hide his smile behind his messy hair. "Well, then I'm going to glue the lips of the gash together, and then use butterfly strips to hold them. You'll need about four. Do not get the wound, glue or strips wet. Get someone else to change the butterfly strips, whoever bound your cut in the first place, if possible. Every second day."

Jason paused, and then turned to include Deeks in his instructions. "Running around firing an unnecessary gun will be fine. Don't do any tackling, and don't lift anything heavy, you'll end up splitting open the wound, and trust me, ripping apart the glue with _hurt_. After two weeks, you should be fine, but be careful for at least two weeks after that. You," Jason paused for half a second, realising he had no idea of the name of the good-looking blond man he was pointing at, "don't let him be stupid." Jason stripped off the plastic gloves he'd donned. "I'll be back."

There were several seconds of not-quite awed silence after Jason had departed, broken by a low whistle from Deeks. "I _like_ that kid." He looked up and met Callen's blue eyes, "He gave you a total dressing down without even trying. And here I was thinking he was as limp as a fish."

Callen raised an eyebrow, but couldn't really argue with Deeks' description of Jason. "You're forgetting something even more important though," Deeks looked at him in confusion, head cocked to the side like a golden retriever, "he put you in charge of my recovery. Twice, in fact. First when he said you had to butterfly strip me," Callen closed his eyes briefly at the poorly worded phrase, but continued without pause, not giving Deeks the satisfaction of inserting a totally unnecessary and probably lewd comment. "But you also have to make sure I don't do anything stupid, like tackle a suspect. So I suppose that means you'll have to do it for me."

"Crap." Deeks leaned back on his heels. "Crap." He looked at Callen, then at the door, then back to Callen. "I wanna bail. Am I allowed to bail?" He flicked his hair out of his face. "Next to you, I'm the one you gets injured most. Why would you want me looking after you? You're s'posed to be indebted to me!" Callen settled back for one of Deeks' dramatic rants that were all bark and no bite. Even if Jason hadn't charged Deeks with cleaning his wound and looking out for him, the LAPD detective would've done it anyway, that simply who he was.

Before Deeks could really get on a roll, Jason returned with, well, a couple of tubes of superglue. "Superglue? Really?" The words were out before Deeks could even think about keeping quiet.

"Really. Adheres to practically anything and sets strong. And it's medical-grade, sterilised, and all that. Exactly what I imagine Mr Callen will need in his line of work." Jason seemed to not only have come back with glue, but also an extra layer of confidence, and attitude. Callen silently lay out his arm, and Deeks stepped closer, mindful of staying out of the light, keeping his shadow from covering the wound.

"Gonna need some help there?" This time the question was asked in earnest, and Jason looked up into serious-yet-laughing blue eyes. He could only nod for the moment, before clearing his throat and looking back down.

"As I lay the glue, I'll need you to pinch the two side of the cut together for about fifteen seconds, then I'll put on a butterfly strip and we'll move on. I'll do it in quarters," Jason suddenly looked up, "you are alright to do this, aren't you?"

Callen had been watching the exchange happening over the top of him in silence, feeling as though he was merely a project being worked on, with no sentiency. So, knowing it was childish, but also not caring, he spoke before Deeks could open his mouth, "He's fine. Good with blood, good with poking out bones, good with flapping skin." Jason blinked, looking down at Callen, a frown creasing his forehead, and Callen elaborated, "He's the one you wrapped my arm, he's already been poking it, he'll be fine."

Deeks, for his part, merely grinned and bent at the waist in a mock bow. "Lets get this show on the road, Jason, he's only going to get grumpier."

Callen resisted the urge to rise to the bait and respond, instead settling as comfortably as possible on the decidedly uncomfortable chair, and tuned out the quiet instructions Jason continued to give Deeks throughout the glue application, which happened to sting. A lot.

Two minutes later, and Callen was allowed to stand up, and as he was putting his jacket back on, he happened to observe the way Jason's fingers lingered on Deeks' hand as he was handed the detective a box of the infernal butterfly strips. Deeks, on his part, seemed unaware of the nurse's attraction, eyes flicking to Callen as he joked about his own medical ability, ever ready to respond to any instruction from the senior agent.

There was a world of trouble that Callen wasn't going to touch with a twelve-foot pole. If Deeks didn't figure it out for himself, then there was no harm done. If he did, well, Deeks was a grown man and was supposedly equipped to handle any situation without making a fool of himself.

"Right, lets go find out where out buddy is." Callen nodded at Jason as he stepped into the brightly lit hallway. Deeks touched two fingers to his temple and flashed his teeth, following three steps behind Callen, humming tunelessly as he followed his team leader back to the reception.

Once they'd been informed that Fadhil still in surgery, but was expected to be out shortly, Callen and Deeks were directed to an unoccupied room, specially designed for criminals who'd been injured during arrest. Callen was content to drowse the time away, but, as always, a room is never silent when Deeks is in it.

"Do you ever get concerned that maybe we're too accustomed to violence?" Callen cracked one eye open and glared at the detective, who was lounging on the singular bed, idly fiddling with a handcuff already attached to the bed, "I mean, I counted them as we walked by. Six rooms G, six. All outfitted like this one. Do other countries have rooms set up for criminals? I bet the British just hire people to look disapprovingly at their bad guys, and they're apologising within the hour." By now both Callen's eyes were open and fixed on the liaison, wondering how he could trick the younger man into the mental ward, and then throwing away the key.

"Oh, c'mon Callen. I know you're not actually falling asleep, it's only been about twenty-four hours since your last nap. And if I don't start a conversation, I am going to fall asleep, and then they'll dump a bomber on top of me." Deeks sat up and crossed his legs on the bed, facing the NCIS agent.

"You're insufferable."

"So I've been told. Many times. In multiple ways. And yet you keep coming back." Deeks grinned impishly, and Callen had to fight back the smile that he felt blooming in response.

"Go get coffee then, that'll keep you awake."

"Have you ever _drunk_ hospital coffee? 'Cause, trust me, if you haven't it's an experience that can wait. Possibly for your whole life."

Callen heaved a sigh, and scratched at his arm, the gash itching. Within two seconds, Deeks was in his personal space and grabbing his wrist. "One of the most important things Jason told you, and I'm so sure you weren't paying attention to him, so I'll tell you again, is to not scratch. You probably won't open the wound, but you most certainly open it up for infection, and I am definitely not going to be the one to tell Sam that his partner lost his _arm_ because he couldn't stop scratching it."

"Relax Deeks," Callen began, pulling his arm back, frowning slightly as Deeks refused to relinquish his hold for a moment, before blinking and letting go. "I was hardly attacking it. And since when were you so concerned about me? I've seen you laugh at me when I was slammed into a brick wall."

Deeks stepped backward until he was perched on the bed again, "Now, that was funny. The facial expression you pulled will stay with me for life." The blond man paused, cocking his head before continuing, "and I _really_ don't want to end up back here when you inevitably get an infection. I've had my fill of hospital for the next six moths, thank you very much."

Callen wasn't entirely satisfied with that answer, but he figured that he'd pushed enough for the time being. He resettled himself, not off-duty, but neither ready to go on the offensive at any given moment, and the silence re-emerged as Deeks finished his shuffling, having found a comfortable position that'd hopefully not send him to sleep. If he was being truthful, Callen was extremely weary, the events of the night catching up to him, particularly the huge stress of sensory overload.

"G, how… how close was tonight to being your worst episode?" The question caught Callen off guard, and he only just managed to keep from starting. Before he could formulate an answer, Deeks spoke again, looking at a point over Callen's shoulder, "You don't have to answer, but I'd like to know."

Callen hesitated, not sure of how to respond. He knew Deeks wasn't asking to exploit him, it was out of genuine curiosity and concern. And then he decided.

"Tonight could have been one of the worst meltdowns I've ever had, if not for you. Only thrice have I ever totally lost it and reverted to a child, and a child's way of dealing with overstimulation, and two of those times was before I turned twenty-one." Callen kept his gaze lowered, but looked up once he finished speaking, gauging the detective's reaction.

Deeks met his eyes, and nodded slightly, letting Callen know that he knew just how difficult it was for the senior agent to admit weakness. "Why don't you try to nap sitting up? I trust you'll be woken by the utter silence of our terrorist being wheeled in. In the meantime I'll make sure someone doesn't sneak up and slit your throat."

Callen immediately opened his mouth to refuse, knowing that no matter how tired he was, he was still working, and that meant he was obligated to sit, awake and weary, for as long as it took for someone to replace them on babysitting duty. And then Callen acknowledged just how much the overstimulation had taken out of him, and he knew that Deeks would always, always have his back, no matter what the situation was. There would be no harm in resting for a few minutes.

"Thanks Deeks."


End file.
